Our Twelve Guardians
by Cerzylaneum'Callist-11
Summary: Freddy, Hannable, Jeepers Creepers, Michael, Jason, Pennywise, Chucky, Leprechaun, Djinn, Leatherface, Pinhead, and Ghostface owe the Devil. Now he wants them to pay him back by training two humans to be killers. So what will they get when they find two mature-minded 7-year-old girls with an abusive life? 2nd fanfic. No flames, share love:)
1. Prologue

_Misc. Movies_

Our Twelve Guardians

Prologue

The dry, cracked ground scorched every foot that it met. Geyser-like cracks would blow out steam -as would the cracks in the ground- at time to time. The temperature could make summer in Arizona seem like going to the North Pole without any clothing or shelter. _Sssssssshhhhhhha,_ more steam escaped the cracks and circled around the circular chamber. At the very back at the room was layers upon layers of skeletons of both humans . . . and Hell's very own wicked creatures, all sculpted into a large, rather horrid pile. On top of said pile was a metal and barbed seat that almost resented an electric chair, and sitting in the chair was a monstrous-looking fiend, sporting thick, sharp claws, slightly curled horns, a blood red skin tone, sharp teeth, and a piercing yellow glare for the group that was to arrive next to be dealt with.  
And sure enough, from one of the many tunnels leading into the chamber, there were distinctive sounds of chains and multiple footsteps of all sizes and weights, also accompanied by plenty of violent language coming from some of the prisoners.  
The sounds echoed throughout the room and tunnels until twelve figures -chained with Hell's strongest materials for cuffs- were forced forward by some of the most strongest of guards.

"Farewell, ladies," one of the guards chuckled darkly, leaving the chamber before one of the prisoners replied, which one _did_, and rather loudly and highly angered.

"Silence, Krueger," the grotesque man ordered. "He is the least of your worries."  
The prisoner grumbled and unhappily complied.

Lucifer's piercing glare scanned over each prisoner as he spoke.  
"It is almost time for your payments."

"What payments?" a figure with a padded-like head with pins sticking out asked.  
"Yea, what payments?" a prisoner that was a stitched and stapled doll questioned.

"You know of 'what payments', fools!" He barked. "All of you have either made a deal with me in past years or I have revived you from Death one too many times! My payment is due."

The twelve men all looked at one another, then started shoving their hands in what pocket they had.

"Hey, Lucy, would ya take a broken paperclip, a piece of string, and a used condom?" "I don't even have a fuckin' paperclip."  
"You don't have a paperclip? I don't even have _pockets_."  
"I have too many damn pockets!" a figure dressed as a clown shouted, digging his gloved hands deeper. All he had pulled out so far was thick-rimmed glasses with a large pink nose, silly string cans, a smiling flower that spat out water, a human ear, a rubber chicken, and he was now at work at finding the end of a chain of multicolored handkerchiefs.

"SILENCE!" He growled, slamming his fists down on the arms of the throne. "THAT ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH TO SATISFY ME!"

"So what the Hell do ya want then? _Playboy_?"

"ENOUGH! Let me think," The Devil waved his claws, and then put an index claw at his temple. "Hmmmm . . . . Aha! I know _exactly _what my payment will be from you. From _all_ of you," Lucifer grinned his jagged smile, looking down at his prisoners.

"I am running low of my supply of murderers, and you twelve are some of the very best - even though you are all pains in the ass."

"So are you gonna tell us what you want or call us pains in your ass?"

"Quiet, fool! As I was saying, I am running low on murderers. Thus, my payment from the lot of you will be to be sent back to earth, train two humans to be murderers, and once they are at their best, you are to give them to me."

The men below, wide eyed, shared looks with one another, and glanced back at Lucifer.

And broke out laughing.

"Oh, haha . . . he-haha, th-that's pretty good, Luce. Us? Train _humans_? To be _KILLERS_? Haha! You REALLY out done yourself, Lucy. Honest, job well done."

The Devil smiled. "Oh, do you really think that, Freddy?"

"Damn straight, Luce."

"That's unfortunate. _Because I'm not_," he growled, and a spinning black hole formed before them. Hell Guards stood behind each figure, smirking at each other with sharp teeth.

"You twelve have a year to transform two humans to murderers and send them to me. If you don't, there will be consequences on your part."

Before any of the slack-jawed killers could say or do anything, the guard behind them shoved them all into the portal at the same time, with the portal closing soon after their leavings.

The woods were quiet, without counting the blowing of wind, scattering of rodents, the ever-present hoot of an owl, the every-now-and-then howl of a coyote, and now the shouts of falling men and their weights dropping to the dirt.

_SLAM, SLAM, SLAM, THUNK, THUNK, THUNK, THUNK, THUNK, THUNK, pat, pat _; while one figure just floated down.

"Hey, Creeper, you DO realize that you could have just _flew_ down, yes?"  
"Shut the fuck up, Djinn." (A/N: Yeaaaahhh, Jeepers Creepers can talk in this story, okay? Makes it easier to handle with.)

The eleven men on the ground groaned, and eventually got to their feet.

"Goddammit. Where the Hell are we going to find humans that look like they have any potential to be killers?"

"Hmm. The Asylum?"  
"Nah, too _used_."  
"The gym?"  
"Too stupid."  
"McDonalds?"  
"Too fat. Won't keep up."  
"Bars?"  
"Too whiny, depressed or egoistic."  
"Vegas?"  
"Too fucked over."  
"Germany?"  
"Too fuckin' pissed."

Then they head the sound of off-key singing of many people, and laughing.

Following the noise silently, they hid where the trees stopped and observed what was before them.

"A camp?"  
"Possibly."


	2. Chapter 1: Welcome to Our Life

Our Twelve Guardians

Chapter one:

Welcome to Our World

**(Okay, I forgot to say the disclaimer in the prologue, so here it is: I, Cerzylaneum'Callist-11, do NOT own any characters in this fanfiction besides a handful of OCs. I don't take ANY credit for Michael, Jason, Leatherface, Ghostface, Pinhead, Pennywise, Freddy, Hannibal, Djinn, Jeepers Creepers, Leprechaun, or Chucky. I DON'T OWN THEM . . . but wouldn't mind if I DID :3 So, with THAT said, done, and over with, enjoy chapter one!)**

"Ow. Pass the 'Aids, will ya?"  
"Mo fo, I ain't got no aids ta give!"  
"I meant the _Band-Aids, _dipshit."

"Oh. Heh . . . I knew that."

Inside a shabby-looking house, in the restroom, a single set of fraternal twins sat on the dirty floor - blue jean pant legs rolled up. Decorating their should-have-been beautiful, flawless skin were past and present scars and cuts, followed closely by black and blue coloring. Little, black baggy hoodies lay in two dirty heaps beside each other.

The two 7-year-old girls worked feverishly to stop the steady flow of ginger that ran down their legs, arms, cheeks, and stomachs from the recent gashes they received. Their stained jeans and use-to-be-white tank tops already started turning darker by the second as the material acted as crimson-turned sponges. Scattered in front of the children were well-used and almost gone medical necessaries - such as cotton balls, bandages, wraps, Gauss, needles, threads, Band-Aids, Alcohol, disinfectants, and many other items they gathered over the years and hid for emergencies.

For the next 20 minutes, the skilled twins mended themselves and each other with what little they had left of supplies. Once finished, the two didn't bother cleaning up the blood after throwing the now-emptied bottles and boxes away in the trash bin.

"Great," one girl said in a sarcastic tone, pushing a brown lock behind her left ear. "We're out. Now what?"  
"You know 'now what'. Either steal more or tough it out," her sister answered her, slipping her hoodie back on, pulling the hood over her messy/choppy black hair "But we're gonna hafta wait till Kev's passed out."  
"That shouldn't take long. He just bought another 12-pack."

The girls weren't really fond of their father - Kevin Mansfield. He neither to them. From the minute they were born, the man had taken a hatred toward the two.

For he was in love with their mother.

Their mother, who had died giving life to the "Spawns of Satan".

After all, they _were _born on 666 - June 6, 2006.

Once the first little girl was born, the nightmare began - Ameleah Mari Mansfield, the mother, started constantly bleeding, and a lo more than the usual amount during giving birth. Her agony stood strong, until the second child arrived, putting Ameleah Mari out of her ungodly misery.  
Heart-ripped and outraged, Kevin kept the girls for one purpose, and one purpose only: to make their life a true living Hell.

Ironic to their existence (or so Kevin decided), he named the first born Nytemarre (nightmare) and the second Myserrii (misery). (Of course, since the names didn't spell correctly like the actual meaning, the nurses were too dense to acknowledge this.)

Since they were infants, the abuse was small; he wanted them to live through the suffering when they grew older, so he minimized it to half a bottle of milk a day, rarely bathed, and not _once_ were they cuddled or held like many other babies were. The abuse eventually grew with the nonidentical twin sisters as the years slowly dragged by. It affected Nytemarre and Myserrii not only physically, but mentally.

To the point where the only characteristics they had of regular children was the height (even tough the girls were actually a bit _smaller _than the other children) and the love of cartoons (even if their favorite consisted of "cutesy" animals being slaughtered or mauled - how they just loved _Happy Tree Friends_). Basically, their childhood was, indeed, stolen from them before they even reached it.

However, with the girls at the delicate age of 2 years, Kevin Mansfield had made the biggest mistake he'd ever made in his natural born life.

One night, he had (again) drunk himself into a snoring slumber. Right before, when he was so-rarely sober, he had been watching horror flicks - having a scary movie marathon night.

It was the girls' day to eat; he had specifically beaten into their craniums that they only get to eat once every seventh day (liquids - a bottle of water a day), and even then there was barely anything to eat that had escaped his hands.

Nytemarre and Myserrii had snuck quietly out of their shared room and tip-toed into the living room, scrounging around for _at least _a quarter-full stale potato chip bag, when they heard the sound of a blade swinging, the scream of an agonized woman, and the splat of of liquid. Instantly, their curiosities drew them toward the television as a masked murderer drove his weapon of choice into a helpless victim.

They were in love with horror films from that night on.

A Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, Halloween, Jeepers Creepers, IT, Silence of the Lambs, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Child's Play, and more.

Many more.

The movies brightened up the twins' dark life completely.

But what they didn't know was that their whole life would change - all starting with a flier.

A flier: five bucks per child - ages 7 to 15 years; Camp Casmaran.


	3. Chapter 2

_Hi, everyone. Sorry I've not posted all that much lately. My fish, Venom Suspense, and my grandfather, Raymond Arnold, had both passed away recently, and I have been feeling pretty sick and under the weather lately. In fact, I still am; it's 2:26 p.m. right now, and I'm waiting for my buddy/roommate to come back from school. My stomach feels like it's gonna freakin' EAT itself, it hurts so bad. BUT I need to sit up to keep the pain on a down low, so to the laptop I go!_

Erm, and with that review that "I" left, my mother somehow hacked into my account instead of making her own, and reviewed. Meeehhh, lazy jerk *pouts*.  
(Btw, this chapter is dedicated to m nephew, Gabriel, my niece, Kammy, and my newborn second cousin, Colton :p they are all beautiful babies, folks. I just spend more time with Gabe, since the others live farther away from meh ;( oh well, at least I get to tickle his wittle feetsies XD)  
Well, might as well get on with the disclaimer, yeah? *Clears throat* I, Cerzylaneum'Callist-11, do NOT own any of the killers of said movies: Leprechaun, Jeepers Creepers, Silence of the Lambs, Child's Play, Halloween, Friday the 13_th__, Wishmaster, IT, Scream, A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Hellraiser.  
Nope.  
I get zero cred.  
I just own these two little girls and other OCs.  
Nytemarre: And don't forget to favorite!  
Myserrii: OR review, you forgot that too, dipshit.  
Me: *sigh* Just read on, my beautiful smelly toasters. Read on. :p  
_

Our Twelve Guardians (Technically) Chapter 2

**Camp Casmaran**

_"Where can you go to make new friends?_

Where can you go to play till ten?

Where you can smile all day

Sing, dance, and pray?

The answer is 'Camp Casmaran'!"

The children and started-adolescents happily sang the Camp's jingle while the bus drove on. In the back of the overly cheery vehicle, the un-identical twin sisters sat together.

Wishing that death would very soon come their way.

They had never been to school before, or _camp_, for the matter. Apparently, the definition of "Camp" is '_Where you are for certain you want nothing more but either to die or kill everyone and everything in range of sight._

Arms crossed, the little girls sat seething with hatred for all of the useless wastes of lives on the bus; even the _driver _was fucking singing. Trader.

"I hate you," Myserrii muttered to her choppy-haired twin.  
"I _saved _you, asshole," Nytemarre grumbled, nudging her sister with her elbow. "I wasn't just gonna let that bastard have ya."  
"But _you're _the reason why Kevin sent us here, jerk!"  
"Nooooooo, _alcohol _is the reason, my sistah frum da same mistah. _Beer _started it _all_."  
"Awww, why you gotta blame the booze, eh?"  
"Cuz I didn't get none."  
"Ah."

_Some days ago, Kevin had invited some of his pals over for a drink and a good long gambling game. He ordered the girls to be the lil' waitresses; forced to fetch and hand out beer whenever he commanded.  
Malcolm, one of the men, had drank one too many of bottles. When young Myserrii was walking by with another bottle in hand to give to Kevin's friend, Sander, Malcolm had snatched her and pulled her close and started to push his grimy hand into the back of her pants.  
Luckily (or _un_luckily, in Malcolm's case), Nytemarre yanked up an empty bottle of beer and broke it against the table, and instantly shoved the shards into his jugular, making him bleed a fountain after crashing to the floor.  
_  
Let's just shortly say that Kevin Mansfield was not as amused as the Miniature Mistress of Murder was.  
Outraged, he had had it with the "Goddamned brats of Hell".  
He told his buddies to say that it was an accident; that there was thick glass somewhat standing up on the floor, and that he fell, causing them to penetrate the skin of his neck greatly, and that when he kinda fell over, they created a slash.

He bribed them with beer, of course.

They lied when the police and ambulance had arrived.  
Gratefully, they were dense and believed the story. And never asked any questions more.  
Once all of the drama was on a down low, he stormed out of the house, thinking of ways he could punish the two.

But only came to realize how much he so wanted them gone.

Passing the flier of a camp, called Camp Casmaran, he snatched up the opportunity in a heartbeat, if not less than that. (Also on how cheap it was.)

_"You filthy brats should be back in a month and a half. You already know the rules: don't talk about me, don't show any skin, stick to your diets, make sure you always have that damn phone and stick together, and don't you DARE get in trouble. I don't want you pathetic things sent back here, understand?!"_

That was the last thing he said.  
He had bought a cell phone and placed a tracking chip inside it, without the twins knowing of such, planning to call every now and then to make sure they had stuck to the rules; the tracking chip for whenever they decide to leave camp base.

So there they were, stuck on the happy-go-lucky bus of torture.  
Yay.  
"C'mon, fellow Camp Casmaran Campers, sing along!" A camper sitting in the bus seat across from the two encouraged, a grin on her dimpled face.  
In monotone, they both answered.

"No."  
"Oh, you silly billies, it will bring out your bright, happy side! Let the love of God fill you with joy!"

"We shall summon the Devil if you do not leave us the fuck alone, you goddamn pink wearing prick!"  
(And I have no problem with God or anything; it's just the story, y'know?)

The bus then went silent.

One of the counselors coughed nervously. "Now, now children. D-don't create a f-fight on our Lord's carav-v-van. Let's just all b-be friends, yes?"

Myserrii took a fake thinking look over underneath her hoodie.

"Hmm, how 'bout … HAAIIIILLLLL NAW, yes?"

Everyone stayed silent for the rest of the trip.

Hours later, the bright bus passed over a sign that read 'Camp Casmaran', in the colors of a rainbow, with huge hot pink and bright yellow bows on each side of the sign.  
The bus pulled up on the camp base, next to all of the other buses, about eight in all.

"Okay, gang! Time to meet the rest of your fellow Camp Casmaran Campers and make friends! After that, we will assign you to your cabins and decide who gets to be your Camp Casmaran Camper Cabin Mates! Yay!"  
"YAAAAYYY!" Answered the other campers.

The twins just growled lowly.

On the shout-out of 'three', all the buses opened their doors, letting out the cheering nitwits who were excited to be there.  
Nytemarre and Myserrii followed once they all jumped off the bus in a hurry.

While the Casmaran Counselors where getting all of the bags of each camper out of the outer compartment of the buses, the children were doing a meet-and-greet while the twins stood as far away as the others as possible, which was against a dark (yes, they actually found something _dark_!) tree.

Standing against the tree actually helped; the others didn't notice them, since they blended in so well with their dark baggy hoodies and little dark jeans.

"Okay! Now we can give out your luggage! Let's see ….. Amy Johnson … Lori Lanely ….. James Stout … Gretchen May ….. Mark Danes ….. Wayne Cook ….. uh…erm…. Mehz-ur-ai and N-eht-m-arr Mansfield? Is that how you pronounce them?"

"No." Myserrii answered when the girls started to come up.

"Well then, how _do _you pronounce your names?"

"It's none of your business, now _is _it? Just get on with your stupid job." With that, the twins took their bags and stepped away from the nervous lady.

When it came to assigning cabins, the counselors somehow silently agreed that Nytemarre and Myserrii should be in their own cabin, for the safety of the other campers.

None wanted the 'witches' to harm them in their sleep.

That day, there weren't any activities, just the meet-and-greet and cabin placing.  
When it came to lunch time, the counselors were confused why the twins refused to eat the food; same as to dinner time.

It was 9:06 at night when the campers decided to go to their cabins, some to just chit-chat, and others to nap their bloated bellies off.  
In the Mansfield cabin, the children were getting toasty, so they took off their baggy hoodies, leaving their dirty used-to-be-white tank tops on.  
Then they instantly dropped to their knees to search through their bags.

"Did you bring 'em?"  
"Well _duh_, I would never forget 'em in the FIRST place!"  
"Phew, I was worried for a second there."  
"Don' worry, Myserrii; I gots it all under control 'ere."

The choppy, black haired twin pulled out a massive amount of horror movies out of her bag.

"Did you bring the portables?"  
"Yupperz."

The long haired light brunette got a somewhat small portable television out, along with a DVD player.  
For a while, the little seven-year-olds untangled the cords, and started plugging everything in the right places.  
Lights Out was supposedly 10:00 p.m. sharp, but the girls paid no attention to rules.

And no Camp Casmaran Counselor wanted to tell the 'Mansfield Witches' what to do; they wanted to _live_.

By the time it was 12:00, the poor things where tired out, and fell asleep on the floor while their little television played on; Child's Play 2 on the screen.

No one was aware of the twelve presences close by in the woods.

_(Okay, there you have it! The girls are finally at the camp. Yeah, yeah I know; this chapter was a little lame. But don't worry; The next one will be posted pretty soon! But you all know what to do: favorite and review! Please and thanks, and I'm sure Nytemarre and Myserrii would be thankful … while the 12 men wouldn't really give a shit ;D)_


	4. Attention!

_Attention!_

Sorry, guys. I know I said that I would update pretty soon, but it would probably be around October. I'm saving up for my OWN laptop for my birthday, which is around October, so once I buy it, I can upload all my chapters onto it and start on the next chapter!

Until then, my apologies are sent to you by my co-workers.

Nytemarre: Don't listen to her, the only thing she ever done right was make US *flex non-existing muscle-y arm* O yeah, who's badass?

Myserrii: Fo real, we are the best thing anyone could EVAH dream! And don't ya FORGET it!

Me: *sigh* just forgive me AND IGNORE THEM!

Them: The readers couldn't ignore us even if they tried *hugs the readers*

- Cerzylaneum'Callist-11


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